


Proof of Possession

by callay



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Come Marking, Facials, M/M, Possessiveness, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 05:55:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8878555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callay/pseuds/callay
Summary: Graves wants to take every little piece of him and swallow it.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Proof of Possession 擁有的證明](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9265367) by [jls20011425](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jls20011425/pseuds/jls20011425)



> Originally written for the [kink meme](http://fantasticbeasts-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/) but after spending way too long on it I wanted to post it here. Enjoy!

The first time, it’s an accident.

Graves hates to lose control, but Credence’s mouth is so perfectly fuckable, the sweet wet heat of it, the soft, pliant openness of his jaw, and as much as Graves wants to make this slow and tender – he wants Credence to want this, to get on his knees before Graves even asks next time – as he nears the edge of orgasm he can’t help holding on to Credence, one hand in his hair and one twisted in the chain of the hallows necklace, holding onto him and fucking into his mouth.

Credence gasps at the change in rhythm, his eyes pressed closed, but obediently he keeps his mouth open. Graves drags Credence’s head back so it’s easier to push deeper, into his throat, fast desperate thrusts now that he’s so close. Credence’s little moans are staccato now, stoppered by the push of Graves’ cock, and Graves can feel climax gathering like a storm inside him, almost there –

He’s going to come down Credence’s throat. He twists the necklace tighter and pushes so far into Credence that it seems all he can feel is the trembling heat of Credence’s throat, and he grits his teeth –

And Credence chokes, throat spasming, and yanks away in a panic. The necklace is still digging into his neck, holding him there, but his hair slips through Graves’ fingers as he jerks away, gasping.

Graves hisses and grabs his spit-slick cock in one hand as he tries to drag Credence closer with the other – but it’s too late. Orgasm is already crashing over him and he’s starting to come on Credence’s face.

Oh.

He’s coming in thick white stripes over Credence’s flushed, upturned face. Credence freezes at the first hot stripe across his cheek and kneels there trembling as slick whiteness spills across his nose, his dark eyelashes, his pink half-open mouth.

The sight twists fiercely at Graves’ belly, making his cock jump in his hand and spurt messily across Credence’s sharp cheek, his spit-wet chin. Again and again, because it’s a long moment before Graves finally finishes, drooling the last pulses onto Credence’s lips, and then he drags in a desperate breath.

There’s silence. The air is thick with the weight of this – the savage beauty of it, of the thick messy spatters of come over the fragile lines of Credence’s face, and also the raw power. Credence is marked, now. There can never be any doubt that he belongs to Graves.

Once Graves tastes the swell of power he feels looking down at Credence like this, he can’t help but savor it. He moves slowly, releasing the necklace and letting it slide down to rest against Credence’s chest, then gently pushing Credence’s hair from his forehead. He doesn’t want to ruin the tableau before him, not yet.

Credence shivers at his touch but otherwise stays still, his eyes closed, his face tilted helplessly up towards Graves. His mouth moves a little as if to speak, but then he tastes the come on his lips and he hesitates, drawing in a ragged breath.

“Credence.” Graves’ tone is low, private. “Credence, you’re mine, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes,” says Credence, voice raw, and Graves feels his chest tighten with a fresh pulse of power.

He reaches out to curl his hands around Credence’s face. His thumbs drag across Credence’s cheekbones, catching the slickness that spilled there, spreading it across Credence’s smooth white skin. “You look beautiful like this, Credence,” he murmurs, and Credence whimpers. “I want to always do this to you, so the whole world knows you’re mine.”

Credence shudders at that, lips parting to let out a little moan. Graves slides his thumb over Credence’s lips, gathering up the slick traces of his come, and then pushes it into Credence’s mouth. Credence’s tongue curls up against Graves’ thumb, first tentatively, and then eagerly. Hungrily.

Something twists tightly in Graves’ stomach. He wants his come everywhere on Credence, wants to own him inside and out. With a fierce rush of hunger he traces the sharp angles of Credence’s face, spreading the mess of come over his skin, catching up the slickness on his thumb and sliding it over Credence’s soft bottom lip and into his mouth.

And Credence just whimpers, kneeling on the hard stone before him as if in prayer.

\---

The next time, he gets Credence into the back alley and presses him up against the wall, face first, holds him there with the weight of his body.

“Can you feel that, Credence?”

“A-ah –”

Graves grinds his hips slowly, pushing his cock harder against Credence’s ass. “All I’ve done all day is think about you,” he murmurs into Credence’s neck. Credence’s skin is smooth and pale, like a doll’s, and all Graves wants is to touch it.

He curls a hand around Credence’s thin wrist and drags his arm over his head, holds it against the wall. His other hand works between them, untucking Credence’s shirt, so he can press his hand to Credence’s stomach, feeling the heat of his skin. His hips rock into Credence, warmth and friction through their clothes. Credence, caught, can only gasp.

Graves presses his mouth close to Credence’s ear. “What about you, my boy?”

“W-what?”

“Have you been thinking about me?”

“Yes,” breathes Credence, quiet but intent with the truth of it.

Heat swells in Graves’ chest. He leans in closer still, curling his arm around Credence, pulling him in tight so they’re pressed together, from their forearms braced up against the wall to Graves’ thigh pressing between Credence’s.

“Did you think about last time? About how it felt?”

It takes Credence a moment to answer. His voice sounds shaky, overwhelmed. “Yes –”

“Or were you thinking about what I’m going to do to you next?”

Because Credence is a clever boy, thinks Graves, he surely knows what Graves is planning to do to him. Surely he could have predicted that things would go this way, that he’d end up the way he does: legs spread, pants down, spelled slick and open so Graves can push easily into him.

They’ve never done this before. Graves had thought about it, of course, mind sliding easily from Credence trembling at his touch, to Credence on his knees, to Credence yielding himself entirely – but he hadn’t planned for it yet. He had planned to wait, for weeks to go by of holding Credence’s body against his and murmuring into his ear until Credence begged him to do it –

But thinking of Credence the other day, the shocked, eager sounds he had made and the beauty of him under the slick shine of Graves’ come –

He can’t make himself wait.

He had imagined Credence might be cool inside, like a ghost, that his bones would be bird’s bones – but when he pushes into him Credence is hot, trembling and alive, and solid enough to draw Graves in like gravity.

At first he only makes small, controlled circles with his hips, gritting his teeth against the animal desire to go harder. This is enough for now – the merest slide of his cock makes Credence cry out, desperate and overwhelmed.

Graves, or maybe the man he is beneath Graves, has known many forms of power in his life, power through magic and power through manipulation. But he finds something uniquely gratifying about the immediacy of this, the raw physical cause and effect: he pushes into Credence and the shudder travels through Credence’s body, rocking his hips, arching his back, pushing a helpless noise from his throat. Like Credence is an instrument and Graves the singularly focused musician.

“You’re beautiful like this, Credence,” he murmurs. And then, because for all his ideas about the careful precision of each thrust and the elegant unfolding of Credence’s responses, this is still raw and savage and dirty, a back-alley fuck against the wall with tears smeared on Credence’s cheeks and lube dripping down his thighs: “You’re _filthy_.”

Credence makes no response, but Graves feels him stiffen at each word, tension sweeping through his body, equally for beautiful as for filthy. The waves of tension provoke an equal and opposite reaction in Graves: a quickening, an unfurling of wildness. Credence, thin and trembling, is so fragile that Graves’ lust feels almost like anger, like the reckless desire to break him.

“That’s it,” he growls. Control is slipping quickly through his fingers. It’s thrilling somehow to let it unspool, faster with each of Credence’s gasps – faster and faster until his teeth are on Credence’s neck, until his fingers are leaving bruises on his hips.

Even as Graves’ thrusts grow wild and forceful Credence remains pliant, head against his forearms on the wall, hips turned up by Graves’ hands. Tension still rolls through him, arching his spine, but it’s so frequent now it’s more like a long shudder, his body tightening around Graves in time with his broken gasps.

“Are you ready, Credence?” growls Graves. He can feel orgasm gathering throughout his body, inevitable now, each thrust pushing him closer, until he’s clinging to the edge. “I’m going to,” – a few more – “come,” – _there_ – “all over you – Credence –”

Credence cries out when Graves pulls out and then again when he feels the first pulse of Graves’ come, right up against his hole so it spills down his crack. And then Graves forcefully tilts Credence’s hips, so his ass is turned up, so Graves can paint stripes of come over his narrow white cheeks. There’s something unbearably bold and filthy about this – each wave of Graves’ orgasm is not just a private rush of pleasure but a physical reality, a fresh surge of come onto the soft, pure skin of Credence’s ass.

Credence doesn’t move, not even when Graves finishes with a sharp intake of breath – he stays like that, back arched awkwardly, trembling. Graves carefully unclenches his fingers from Credence’s hip. “Look at you,” he murmurs, watching his come dribble down Credence’s crack, possession in its basest form. He curls both hands around Credence’s ass and squeezes. “You’re mine.”

Credence whimpers as Graves touches him, catching the come that threatens to drip down Credence’s thighs and spreading the slickness over the small, soft curve of his ass, rubbing it into his skin. Graves does it with intense focus, heart pounding with a possessive need, different than lust but just as primal and urgent. He slides his thumb up Credence’s crack and rubs slickly at his hole until Credence shudders helplessly, crying out, “Mr. Graves –”, and feels a thrill of something like triumph.

\---

The next time, something is wrong. Credence is hesitant, withdrawn, and then finally shows Graves his hands. They are marked again by the red welts of a lashing.

Graves hisses out a breath. A cold rage rushes over him, pure jealousy. How dare that woman lay a hand on Credence, when Credence is _his_ –

He feels Credence shrinking away from his anger, and with effort he pushes it aside. Gently he cups Credence’s hands in his. “I’ll help you, Credence,” he says. “I’ll take care of you.”

And just like that Credence is leaning into him, eager, and doesn’t even startle when Graves grips his wrists and apparates them both to his apartment.

He’s never taken Credence here before, but it seems fitting now – to satiate here the urgent need in him to claim Credence as his, here among all of his other things.

Graves shucks off his coat and shoes, and then takes Credence’s hands in his and murmurs the healing spell, smoothing it gently over the red and broken skin. His heart is still pounding with a bitter jealousy but his words are calm: “I’ll take care of you, Credence. Soon, this will all be in the past, I promise you.” 

He can feel Credence drinking in the words, shivering under his touch. Credence is so hungry, so eager. It makes Graves feel powerful, but it also makes him want to give and give, beyond what he had ever planned, like Credence is a black hole drawing him in body and soul.

He swallows a sudden, debilitating urge towards tenderness and forces himself to focus on his goal. To focus on claiming Credence as his, unquestionably, undeniably.

He starts by curling a hand around the back of Credence’s head and kissing him. The kiss is a slow one, but no less aggressive because of it – he kisses Credence full of the knowledge that he can take as much of Credence as he wants at any time. He knows this, and he wants Credence to know this, and therefore he doesn’t rush. Just kisses Credence gently and insistently, lips sliding against lips, the slow exploratory push of his tongue.

They’ve shared frantic kisses before, hard ones that banged Credence’s head against the wall, ones full of hunger and teeth. This kiss is nothing like those, and it makes Graves feel even more powerful. This kiss is slow precisely because of the way Credence is trembling against him, eager for more. It’s slow because it can be, because Graves can take Credence’s mouth however he wants, could do nothing but kiss him all night if he wanted to, claiming every bit of his sweet, warm mouth.

And so Graves holds Credence still, one arm tight around his waist and the other cupping his head, and kisses him, plundering his mouth over and over again, until Credence is dazed and helpless in his arms.

The urge go further, to claim Credence utterly, is still there, but this feels good too, fills Graves’ chest with a tight, hot combination of arousal and power that just keeps growing the more he kisses Credence.

Eventually he pulls back just enough to look at Credence – Credence looks away, face pink, his breath fast and unsteady, his tongue probing lightly at his well-used lips – and with a murmured charm he starts removing Credence’s clothes.

Credence starts, and stares down wide-eyed as his vest unbuttons itself and his necktie starts to tease itself free. His eyes have that nervous, hungry look they always do when he sees magic. Graves enjoys seeing that, but he enjoys kissing him more, so he forces his head back up and presses their mouths together again.

The charm moves as slowly as the kiss, and it takes several long moments for all of Credence’s clothes to slide off him, slithering free to fold themselves on a nearby chair. And then finally Credence is naked in Graves’ arms, except for the hallows necklace still hanging against his chest. Graves holds him tight, feeling his thin, angular body, his skin flushed with arousal and embarrassment, his cock pressing against Graves’ thigh.

Graves is getting hard too, his cock swelling in his pants as he presses his tongue into Credence’s yielding mouth. He pulls Credence in tight and grinds against him, feeling the way his body trembles. He knows exactly what he wants to do Credence, and the thought sends a hot spike of arousal twisting through his stomach.

Finally he breaks the kiss. Credence leans in, still seeking his mouth, but Graves steps back and gently turns him around, so he faces Graves’ bed.

“Lie down for me, Credence.”

And Credence obeys, taking the few steps to the bed and then folding himself awkwardly onto it, and lying there on his back, his arms at his sides. He doesn’t look at Graves, just lies there, waiting. But Graves can see his anticipation in the shuddery rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers twist in the sheets. The hard line of his cock against his abdomen.

He’s so thin and pale, thinks Graves, watching him. He’d look ethereal – and parts of him do, the curves of his cheekbones, the delicate bones of his wrists and ankles – but he’s got too many hard edges, the sharp push of his ribs under his skin, the jut of his hipbones, the hard set of his jaw as he presses his lips tightly together.

Maybe he looks like he belongs in a black-and-white photograph, with his pale skin and the darkness of his hair against the pillow, the line of the necklace leading down his chest, his pubic hair like a patch of shadow at the center of him – except someone’s carefully pinked up the hollows of his cheeks and the entire length of his cock, making them glow red and alive.

Graves wants to take every little piece of him and swallow it.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, with all the edge in his voice just as if he had said, “You’re mine.” Credence closes his eyes, his cheeks darkening.

Graves can feel anticipation clawing at his stomach. Credence _is_ his and the thought of turning that into a physical reality is too pressing to resist.

Suddenly, he’s done moving slowly.

He doesn’t undress but he charms open his pants, brusquely, as he walks towards the bed. He climbs onto it, gets on all fours over Credence. Credence’s lips part around a gasp and his body shifts a little, straining up towards Graves, but Graves doesn’t touch him.

He just stays there on all fours, looking down at Credence – the way his narrow shoulders and hips are hemmed in by Graves’ body, the primal vulnerability of all that pale, naked skin – and he pulls his cock out of his pants.

Bracing himself with one hand, he starts to stroke himself, tight and fast. Credence whimpers, his eyes lingering hungrily on Graves’ cock and then darting away. Graves just growls in response, crouched like an animal over Credence, fucking into his own fist.

He was already worked up from earlier, and from the thought of doing this, and he’s already close. He can feel each stroke of his fist throughout his whole body – pleasure, yes, but mostly just pure white anticipation pulsing through his veins.

“Do you know why I’m doing this, Credence?”

“W-why?”

“I’m going to mark my territory. I’m going to mark every bit of you as mine, Credence, every inch.”

“Oh,” breathes Credence, his eyes falling closed.

“So when you go out onto those dirty streets, back to that horrible home – everyone will smell me on you, Credence, everyone will know you’re mine.”

Credence whimpers wordlessly, with a naked longing that twists hotly in Graves’ stomach. To see Credence so worked up – whole body shaking, fingers twisting desperately at the sheets – when Graves isn’t even touching him –

“Open your eyes.”

Credence does with a little gasp, his cheeks flushing as his dark, hungry gaze is drawn to Graves’ cock.

“Do you understand, Credence?” growls Graves, fist moving in frantic jerks. “Nobody can touch you but me.”

He says it as orgasm rushes over him, tensing his muscles, pushing the breath from his lungs so that the word has the force of a curse: “Nobody.”

It’s happening, then, his cock spilling in slow, thick pulses that spatter messily down onto Credence’s skin. Credence lies there trembling as Graves paints slickness over his chest with each pulse of his cock, marking his ribs, his nipples, his collarbone. The sight of his come pooling on Credence’s skin clutches at Graves like a squeeze to his stomach, his balls, a pull at his cock that drags a new thick pulse from him.

It seems like a long time before, leaning forward, he lets his cock drool the last trembling string of come into the hollow of Credence’s throat, and then Graves slows the movement of his fist with a low groan. He falls back onto his knees, his thighs straddling Credence’s waist, and he lets his eyes travel over Credence, flushed and filthy.

His eyes catch on the hallows necklace resting on Credence’s chest – it’s sullied, too, shining slick with come. He’s tickled by the symbolism of that, as if mastering death will be as simple as mastering a desperate, broken boy. But for now, it’s the boy who’s in front of him, chest shuddering with each breath, beads of Graves’ come sliding into the dips between his ribs and trickling down the side of his neck.

Graves reaches out and touches Credence, both hands, thumbs dipping into the hollow of Credence’s throat and then painting the slick come over the stark curve of his collarbone. Sliding his hands down, he can feel Credence’s heartbeat – Credence’s skin feels thin and delicate as a flower petal, and Graves presses his come into it as if he could slip his essence into Credence’s veins. He’s not rough but he is unrelenting, hands tracing every line of Credence’s chest, spreading slickness over every bit of his skin. Credence trembles at his touch, chest shuddering, breathing in helpless little gasps.

The hallows pendant Graves lifts to Credence’s half-open mouth and slips onto his tongue. Credence’s eyelashes flutter and obediently he closes his lips around it. Graves, mapping Credence’s ribs with his fingers, can see the movement of his jaw, the furrow of his brow as he carefully sucks it clean.

Yes, Credence is his, in every possible way. Graves’ chest feels full and hot with the knowledge of it. His ambitions are so much grander, but just for the moment, he cares little for having power over many people, if he can have complete and utter power over a single person.

He works his way down Credence’s sides, then back up to his chest, and only then does he touch Credence’s nipples. He knows how Credence will react and it’s still gratifying to see it, the instant arch of his back, the little cry that spills from his lips. Credence’s nipples are always sensitive and it’s even better like this, Graves’ thumbs sliding messily over them, teasing them in quick slick swipes.

Credence, who’s been so good so far, so pliant, starts to squirm. His arms twitch where they’re trapped against his sides by Graves’ thighs and his head tosses on the pillow, so that the hallows necklace slips wetly from his mouth. He gasps as Graves pinches his nipples and then whines when Graves rubs them, thumbs sliding slick over them.

“Please – Mr. Graves –”

His voice is desperate, eager. Again, that precipitous feeling of wanting to give and give. The dangerous urge to offer tenderness for tenderness’s sake. Graves pushes it away.

Instead, he squeezes Credence’s nipples between his fingers until Credence jerks against the bed, open-mouthed. “You’ve been very good, Credence,” he says, low and deliberate. “Would you like me to touch you?”

“ _Yes_ –”

Graves lies down next to him on the bed, crowding in close. Credence’s cock is beautifully flushed, drooling precome onto his stomach, and Credence moans aloud when Graves wraps his hand around it.

It’s a simple matter, a few tight strokes as Graves leans in and kisses Credence, pressing him down into the pillow and kissing his trembling, open mouth – a few strokes only before Credence comes, his whole body trembling, his cock spilling onto his own stomach.

Credence cries out as he comes and Graves swallows the noise eagerly into himself, as if it’s his by right.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [calllay](http://calllay.tumblr.com/post/154592448279/proof-of-possession-callay-fantastic-beasts) on Tumblr!


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